


A Mind Divided

by Alona



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 13:35:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12169923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alona/pseuds/Alona
Summary: They were paying a visit to Susan's illicit coffee plant.(A slightly different take on Talia's sleeper status.)





	A Mind Divided

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TwoMenAndAGuava (drakkynfyre47)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/drakkynfyre47/gifts).



They were paying a visit to Susan's illicit coffee plant – "You need to talk to them," she'd said. "It sounds stupid, but trust me, it works." – when Susan was called away to deal with an emergency. She walked Talia most of the way back to her quarters, calling down increasingly specific curses upon the heads of lustful Centauris, voyeuristic security guards, and plumbing manufacturers. For most of the way she pretended not to notice Talia's laughter at her imprecations; finally, just before disappearing down a corridor, she flashed a merry grin. 

In her room, Talia slipped off her shoes, peeled off her gloves, and sat on her bed to meditate. It was important for a telepath to keep her mind uncluttered, and Talia had been slacking off. 

When she finished the first exercise, the other one was with her in her mind. 

_Having a good time?_ she asked. 

The other one wasn't a separate person from Talia, not really, and she didn't precisely speak to her, any more than two telepaths spoke to one another when their minds touched. But Talia's handlers had encouraged her to imagine a sharp divide. It would help her keep the deception in place, they'd said. 

_I'm getting closer,_ she thought. _Already I have access to information I wouldn't have otherwise. It's little things – but they trust me. I know they do._

The answer came: _Since the stunt you pulled with that Psi Cop, yes._

Talia knew that some of her memories had been suppressed as part of her processing, before she was deployed to Babylon 5. She usually didn't notice the lack – most of the time, she didn't consciously recall it – but when the other one displayed strong opinions, like her disdain for Psi Cops, Talia wondered what she was missing. 

_You aren't going to tell me off for avoiding you?_

_It's only been a week,_ the other one thought. _I know everything you do, see everything you see. If there was a need, I would interfere. Our report isn't scheduled for another month._

 _You sound happy about that,_ Talia thought. And she was worried for a moment that she'd done it wrong – that she really was just hearing herself, her ordinary, daytime self, who was not a spy, who would never think of betraying her friends. 

_Don't be ridiculous_. 

No – her own voice never sounded so cold and hard in her head. 

The other one continued: _Are you sure there isn't more you could be doing to get close to Commander Ivanova?_

Talia floundered. _I… I'm letting that unfold… organically. To be safe._

It was harder to tell emotions apart, but Talia clearly picked up the other one's frustration, sadness – and deep yearning. It almost broke her concentration. There was no way she could hide the surge of joy and panic she felt. 

"It's real," she said aloud. "You feel it, too."

Only formless bursts of emotion came from the other one; it felt as though she were trying, impossibly, to shield herself from Talia. 

_This has no bearing on our mission,_ the other one said, finally. _Get some sleep._

Talia floated up from her meditative state more quickly and roughly than usual. She felt the beginnings of a headache at her temples, and her face was wet with tears she couldn't account for. As she readied herself for bed she felt out the edges of a new tender place somewhere inside her, like an inward bruise. She didn't know where it had come from, but she wished to cradle it close to herself. She fell asleep, after half an hour's tossing and aimless weeping, the mystery still unsolved. 

The next morning she met Susan in her quarters for breakfast. 

"From the last harvest," Susan mock-whispered, pushing a French press towards Talia's cup and saucer. "You look like you need it."

"Thanks for letting me know I look like hell," Talia said, smiling. For just a moment that bruised, tender spot dragged at her, and she felt, all at once and overwhelmingly, desperate affection and desperate hopelessness. It hurt to look at Susan. Then Talia poured herself a cup of coffee and shrugged the feeling off. 

"Do you take it black?" Susan asked. "I'm not saying I'll hold it against you if you don't, but…"

Talia laughed and drank it black. The bitterness cleared the lingering sadness from her mind. She was at breakfast with Susan, and they were getting along. She was happy. There was nothing else to it.


End file.
